


Near-Silence is Golden

by longleggedgit



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ibu has developed a new habit that makes Kamio slightly impatient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Near-Silence is Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2007. Thanks to [](http://anjenue.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://anjenue.livejournal.com/)**anjenue** for the beta. ♥

Kamio noticed the change in Ibu’s ramblings almost instantly, because the thing was, they _weren’t_ ramblings anymore – they’d regressed into what could only be defined as mumblings, and while no one else at Fudomine might have noticed the change, to Kamio it was _very important._ Ibu’s typical habit of sharing every tiny detail of what went on in his head with the rest of the world was, if peculiar and occasionally enough to get him into trouble, generally endearing. Mumbling, on the other hand, was nothing more than talking to himself. Talking to oneself was what crazy people did – crazy people and that data nerd at Seigaku. Who was probably crazy. It was _not_ something Ibu Shinji, Kamio’s best friend and frequent doubles and practice partner, should be engaging in.

“Ibu,” Kamio said, lowering his hand from what was about to be a serve.

On the other side of the net, Ibu relaxed his stance, looking surprised. “Yes?”

“You’re talking to yourself,” Kamio said.

Ibu looked back at him blankly. Then he muttered something under his breath.

“ _Ibu._ ”

“You’re being rude,” Ibu said, making Kamio blanch. “You should serve now.”

Kamio did, but he glared at Ibu pointedly for the duration of the match.

 

It ended with Kamio only taking one game, and after they walked to the locker rooms together, Kamio fuming silently that he had not only lost, but lost to his _mumbling and probably clinically insane best friend._ If he couldn’t even take two games from a lunatic, he might as well give up on tennis right then and there.

And the entire walk, Ibu was still muttering.

“ _Stop_ ,” Kamio blurted once they were inside the locker rooms, and he tore off his sweat-stained shirt for dramatic emphasis. “Ibu, you need to stop that _right now._ ”

It wasn’t just that it was annoying. Kamio kept imagining he heard things – completely nonsensical snippets of words that could never conceivably go together, like “Kamio” and “lips” and “chances.” He was beginning to worry the crazy was contagious.

Ibu only stared at him, eyes wide and startled, and damn it all, he was actually making Kamio feel _guilty_ for calling him out on his lunacy.

“Look,” Kamio said, moving closer, because really, Ibu had to understand that this was important, “it’s not like I mind normally. Normally it’s kind of –“ Kamio found himself struggling for the right words. “Normally it’s not bad,” he said finally. “But I have no idea what you’re saying anymore, and it makes you sound like a crazy person, and if you don’t stop, I might actually have to—“

Kamio never got to decide what he might have to do, because Ibu had started again. Only this time Kamio was close enough that he could actually hear, and what he heard made his throat tighten and his mouth clamp shut and the hair stand up on his arms.

“I can’t tell if he’s figured it out yet or not,” Ibu said very softly. “But at least he’s finally close enough that I can kiss him.”

Without another lunatic, mumbling word, Ibu leaned forward and pressed a chaste, exploratory kiss to Kamio’s mouth. And Kamio, after blinking stupidly and staring as Ibu pulled away, waited six seconds before he grabbed the back of Ibu’s neck and pulled him in for another one.

The second kiss was considerably less chaste, mainly because it was Kamio who took control, pulling Ibu against him so forcefully they both let out quiet little “oomphs” against each other’s lips, tilting Ibu’s head back so that he could better coax their lips apart, better slide his tongue against Ibu’s teeth. The quiet, frantic thought of _At least this will get him to shut up_ ran across Kamio’s mind, followed by the more coherent _Which was probably his plan all along._

Kamio broke them apart, gasping for breath and intending to ask if this deduction might really be the truth, but then he caught sight of Ibu’s eyes, half-lidded and heavy and sleepy-looking, and the slight part to his lips, and the way they actually _glistened_ with moisture and they seemed to be curling into a half-smile, and Kamio couldn’t help but pull him in again.

And then they were up against the lockers, which made the absolute most _terrible_ noises _imaginable_ when there were two boys slamming into them, and Kamio realized he couldn’t satisfy himself with just Ibu’s mouth anymore, so he moved down to his jaw and his neck, alternatingly biting and sucking and grinning when Ibu made a surprised, happy little “oh” sound. And Ibu’s hands were clutching at Kamio’s bare back, sometimes actually _scratching_ , and for some reason Kamio liked it and wasn’t at all inclined to punch Ibu in the face.

“If we don’t stop soon, one or both of us might pass out from lack of air,” Ibu said suddenly, and Kamio, because he was beginning to feel a bit light-headed, was inclined to agree.

He stepped back and let Ibu slide down so that his feet were flat on the floor and his back still against the lockers.

“Were you doing that on purpose?” Kamio asked, lifting a hand to wipe his mouth and then deciding he didn’t really want to.

Ibu shrugged and tucked his disheveled hair behind his ears. “You’re always listening,” he said matter-of-factly, “and I needed for you to not hear some things for a while.”

Kamio blinked, and Ibu smiled shyly. “I also took into account the fact you would probably not be able to stand not knowing my thought process for much longer than a week. If you were wondering, it took you about four days.”

“I know how long you’ve been muttering,” Kamio growled. “You could’ve just said something to me, you know.”

Ibu shrugged again. “You don’t always hear what I actually say,” he said. “I thought trying to hide something would be the best way to get your attention.”

Kamio shifted a little guiltily.

“Now you’ve made him feel bad,” came Ibu’s muttered self-admonishment. “That wasn’t intended. Not a good start to –“

“Hey,” Kamio said, and he moved forward so that he was pressed against Ibu again, resting his forearms on either side of Ibu’s head. “No more mumbling, okay?”

Ibu looked abashed, but then Kamio kissed him, slowly and with less desperation, more tenderness than they had attempted before.

“I promise not to ignore you anymore,” Kamio said when he pulled his mouth away, and Ibu’s eyes lit up.

“Deal,” he said.

_end_  



End file.
